you-and-your-face-sir

Bruce Wayne Imagine

Requested: “can you write something where Bruce and the reader get drunk at like a boring charity event? :)”

Bored at an event, You and Bruce have a little bit too much…

“Excuse me Miss.”

Your head whipped towards an elderly man, whose facial expression spoke for the few confused people around the room.

You cleared your throat, ridding your smile off your face.

“Yes Sir?” You replied, straightening out quickly. But you couldn’t rid the smile off your face forever, and it was held back weakly with a giggle.

“Is he okay?”

Following the man’s pointed finger, your eyes trailed to Bruce behind you. He was lying on his stomach, his fingers and hands sliding along the ground to find his lost watch. His brows were crossed, focusing very intensely on the marble.

“Oh-” You held back a smile, “He’s just lost his pet ant.” You said.

“Ant?”

“I am not!” Bruce stated almost immediately picking himself back up.

You ignored him

“Yes, his ant. It was a lovely creature.” You slurred, champagne of your lips, “But now it rides off slowly into the sunset, lost forever…” You looked off into the sky;

“Wait, is-is that Mr Wayne?”

“Why yes it is.” You said.

“Why no it is not” Bruce said, stumbling to get up.

You lent in, to whisper to the man,

“I think he needs glasses if i’m honest, you know, because he’s getting old,” Bruce grabbed your hand, and you quickly whispered to the man with a laugh;

“You could almost say he’s as blind as a bat!” And you giggled away into the crowd watching the mans confused face disappear as Bruce pulled you along by the hand with a smirk on his face.

These events were usually fun, yet somewhere along the evening, the atmosphere had cascaded into nothing but dullness. So during that time, you two had decided to consume copious amounts of alcohol. The hangover the next morning, and the two drinks too many would tell you in the morning, that you two simply drank too much.

Bruce pulled you onto the dance floor, spinning you around and stopping you with his warm hand on your waist.

“So why were you crawling on the floor Mr. Wayne?” You questioned.

“I was finding my watch Mrs. Wayne.”

You smirked, “Oh really?”

“Really.” He convinced with a hint of playfulness in his warm voice.

“See, i think you’re a little-bit-” You tapped his nose cheekily, “Drunk.”

Bruce’s cheeks rose a funny shade of red. His body had become almost resistant to alcohol, but tonight he’d had just a bit too much.

And he didn’t even realise.

“I think you’ve had too much if i do say so myself.” Bruce smirked, “Just an observation from one drunk to another.”

Your eyes then widened slightly, “Don’t tell Batman I was drunk.”

“I’m Batman.”

“I meant Jason.”

“No you didn’t.” He smiled and kissed your cheek. “You must be incredibllilieihblabla-”

“Incredibly” You corrected,

“Yes, that word, drunk.”

“Not as drunk as you.” You smiled, looking into Bruce’s dark eyes,

“I may not be as drunk as you are-” Bruce said,

“Something anyone who’s drunk would say-” you interrupted;

“But i’ll never be drunk enough to forget that i love you.”

Bruce lent down and kissed your neck;

“Oh Bruce.” You teased, “You’re really charming you know that?”

“I kn-”

“Don’t, answer that.” You laughed. And Bruce joined in too.

You didn’t remember much after that moment. Between the fuzz of the soft chandeliers and the giggles and warm touches of Bruce as he held your hand like a child afraid of getting lost, the night was eccentric. You briefly remember Bruce taking you to the roof to propose to you only to realise you were already married, drinking more, playing Marco-Polo with the children, and drinking a lot more. Yet somehow, after all the alcohol you had consumed, you remembered tiny memories and flashes, one including Bruce hugging a pot plant with a red cape tied to it.


When the ballroom began to empty, and the noise began to quiet, you and Bruce decided to call Alfred. You span around the empty ballroom, watching your dress spin and spin, until Bruce stopped you after calling Alfred.

“He’s here.”

“Already?!”

“Apparently we called him an hour ago.”


Upon arriving home, and before you went up to bed with Bruce, you turned to Alfred with a shaky step and a stench that smelt like you had been soaking in red wine.

“Hey Alfred.” You whispered.

You smiled, gesturing for him to come closer.

He hummed, raising a brow, “Yes Mrs. Wayne?”

You looked to both sides, cautious of your surroundings.

“I think i’m married to Batman.” You began.

Alfred held back a smirk.

“How do i tell my parents?” You asked.

Alfred cleared his throat, and put his hands on your shoulders. He spun you around to face the bedroom, when he said to you;

“Rip it off like a band-aid my darling.”
You smiled, putting a hand to your heart.

“Thank’s Alfred. I can really count on you.”


That night, you and Bruce had a pleasant sleep. Your bodies collapsed onto the bed, and you fell asleep straight away. Although drunk, Bruce still held onto you tight.

Whilst you two slept peacefully, dreaming of the crazy, eccentric night, Clark Kent was awoken, to a picture sent by you, of Bruce hugging a pot plant dressed as Superman.


-super fun to write!

-Hoped you liked, again thanks for the request! I loved it!xx

-Have a great day!